Saga Comic Quotes

Theatres are curious places, magician's trick-boxes where the golden memories of dramtic triumphs linger like nostalgic ghosts, and where the unexplainable, the fantastic, the tragic, the comic and the absurd are routine occurences on and off the stage. Murders, mayhem, politcal intrigue, lucrative business, secret assignations, and of course, dinner.

A lot of people who came into my family's life looking like heroes ended up acting more like villains.

Hear me, X-Men! No longer am I the woman you knew! I am Fire and Life incarnate! Now and forever - I am PHOENIX!

The cultural work done in the past by gods and epic sagas is now done by laundry-detergent commercials and comic-strip character

As the Dark Lord spoke when he saw the Archangel Michael descending upon him: We are in some serious shit.

Hey, killing people doesn't count if they're bad! Hollywood taught us that.

Yes, of course, the whole idea is utterly inane, but to let its predictable inanities blind you to its truly fabulous and breathtaking aspects is to do both oneself and the genre a disservice.

The situation has gone so far past the point of insanity it's come around and become mundane again.

Well, I've always wanted to call my son Barr." "Like a tavern? Like a soap?" "My father's name is Barr." "Oh. And I love it!

The Fourth Crusade was an epic clusterfuck a comic-opera misadventure a tragic saga with farcical elements.

Next to God, Family is the best thing.

Prison... it changes you. I'm not the same man I was before going on the inside. I can't go back. I won't." "You were in prison less than twenty-minutes.

Cloak, does God hate me?" I said. "It depends which god you mean. I've met several." "The Jewish One." "Yes.

Some literary recommendations: James Salter’s erotic masterpiece, A Sport and a Pastime; Anais Nin’s collections of short stories Delta of Venus and Little Birds; the erotic novels Emanuelle by Emanuelle Arsan and Story of O by Pauline Réage; Harold Brodkey’s sexual saga “Innocence”—perhaps the greatest depiction of a session of cunnilingus ever penned; novels by Jerzy Kosinski such as Passion Play and Cockpit; Henry Miller’s Under the Roofs of Paris and Quiet Days in Clichy; My Secret Life by Anonymous and The Pure and the Impure by Colette; Nancy Friday’s anthology of fantasies, Secret Garden (filled with the correspondence of real people’s fantasies); stories from The Mammoth Book of Erotica or one of the many erotic anthologies edited by Susie Bright. For those with a taste for poetry, try Les Fleurs du Mal (Flowers of Evil) by Charles Baudelaire or Flesh Unlimited by Guillaume Apollinaire. And for those who like comic books (kinky ones, that is), try the extra-hot works of writer/illustrator Eric Stanton, who specializes in female-domination fantasies.

This story twists the ancient myths we grow up with,” Berger says, “where what the reader knows about the Olympian gods, or thinks he knows, is challenged in fresh and curious ways. One god’s journey and actions unimaginably affect the entire universe. Berger took from childhood experiences to create this saga. “My own fascination with Greek mythology and comic books helped bring this story to life. If it weren't for characters like Wonder Woman or ancient heroes like Perseus, this story couldn't have emerged.

Warning: This read will cause lack of sleep! You wont want to put it down! July 13, 2016 by Francine Baia This was a long awaited novel in the Sword of the God series and it was most definitely well worth the wait. The author provides an all encompassing look into the inner thoughts and machinations of each character which is commanding. She tackles several serious subjects that are current in today’s society, including PTSD and how it affects people differently and the devastation it causes on family. Several love stories are explored which keeps the readers on edge and wanting more. The integration of languages and cultures are seamless and readily understandable which bolsters the depth of the multiple storylines and at times is masterfully interlaced with comic relief. This is truly an enjoyable read that you will find difficult to put down. Anxiously anticipating the next installment!

Wait for it,” Edwards muttered to himself. He let the ape get about forty meters closer, then shot him in the face. The ape wore a comically puzzled expression, right up until its face melted off. Its sword clattered to the ferrocrete, echoing loudly.

Fantasize, together: Take a page from The Thousand and One Nights and incorporate a story into foreplay. If you’re not a born storyteller, try reading one aloud together. Some literary recommendations: James Salter’s erotic masterpiece, A Sport and a Pastime; Anais Nin’s collections of short stories Delta of Venus and Little Birds; the erotic novels Emanuelle by Emanuelle Arsan and Story of O by Pauline Réage; Harold Brodkey’s sexual saga “Innocence”—perhaps the greatest depiction of a session of cunnilingus ever penned; novels by Jerzy Kosinski such as Passion Play and Cockpit; Henry Miller’s Under the Roofs of Paris and Quiet Days in Clichy; My Secret Life by Anonymous and The Pure and the Impure by Colette; Nancy Friday’s anthology of fantasies, Secret Garden (filled with the correspondence of real people’s fantasies); stories from The Mammoth Book of Erotica or one of the many erotic anthologies edited by Susie Bright. For those with a taste for poetry, try Les Fleurs du Mal (Flowers of Evil) by Charles Baudelaire or Flesh Unlimited by Guillaume Apollinaire. And for those who like comic books (kinky ones, that is), try the extra-hot works of writer/illustrator Eric Stanton,

I was bewitched and amused by such a unique present. I showed it to my Valet for his counsel.               “What should I do?” I asked.               Andy thought my question comical. “Send Tad a Thank You message and tell him you are grateful for the gifts he has given you. It doesn’t take a genius to figure that out,” he said. “I know that! I want to know if I should wear it,” I remarked. As soon as I had said it, I knew I shouldn’t have. For a split second a hint of resentment washed over my lover’s otherwise blithe demeanour. Being an honourable gentleman, he opined, “My dear fella, follow your heart. Do what you believe is best and never regret your decision. “This is a decision you’ll have to make for yourself. I’m not in a position to counsel you without seeming prejudicial.” His declaration brought me to cognizance. I knew there and then what I had to do, although I did not confide to my beloved what was on my mind until we met with Tad privately not long after our discourse.

Rose shrugged. “How am I supposed to know. I’m just a kid.” Nathan’s brow furrowed as he examined Rose as she attempted to look innocent. “I think you’re done playing that card. You were wise beyond your age before you were able to talk to Ava. Now, you are going to just be trouble I know it.” “Just a kid,” Rose repeated, batting her eyes in a comical fashion.

We stayed two more days in Kurkurast, getting well fed and rested, waiting for a road-packer that was due in from the south and would give us a lift when it went back again. Our hosts got Estraven to tell them the whole tale of our crossing the Ice. He told it as only a person of an oral-literature tradition can tell a story, so that it becomes a saga, full of traditional locations and even episodes, yet exact and vivid, from the sulphurous fire and dark of the pass between Drumner and Dremegole to the screaming gusts from the mountain-gaps that swept the Bay of Guthen; with comic interludes, such as his fall into the crevasse, and mystical ones, when he spoke of the sounds and silences of the Ice, of the shadowless weather, of the night's darkness. I listened as fascinated as all the rest, my gaze on my friend's dark face.

What were they playing? All agree that the band featured light, cheerful music—ragtime, waltzes, and the comic songs that were then so popular in the London music halls. Survivors specifically recalled Irving Berlin’s “Alexander’s Ragtime Band” and a pretty English melody called “In the Shadows,” the big London hit of 1911. Colonel Gracie couldn’t remember the name of any tune, but he was sure the beat was lively to the end. Nevertheless, the Carpathia had no sooner reached New York than the story spread that the band went down playing “Nearer, My God, to Thee.” The idea was so appealing that it instantly became part of the Titanic saga—as imperishable as the enduring love of the Strauses and the courage of the engineers who kept the lights burning to the final plunge. Yet doubts persist. In the first place, the whole point of the band playing was to keep the passengers’ spirits up, and light music seems best suited to that. As Colonel Gracie observed, “If ‘Nearer, My God, to Thee’ was one of the selections, I assuredly would have noticed it and regarded it as a tactless warning of immediate death, and more likely to create a panic that our special efforts were directed towards avoiding….

Curious,” she said. “And what do you add to the team?” “Comic relief.” She cocked an eyebrow. “Maybe a little whimsy,” he said. “Improvisation. Vision.” “You have a broad imagination, then?” “There are broads in my imagination almost all the time.

TO BE CONTINUED... Name: Scarlett Bio: Scarlett is a princess by birth, but an adventurer at heart. She rarely needs rescuing, and piloting a helicopter while battling an evil super genius -- in the middle of a freak thunderstorm -- is her idea of a good time. Hobbies: Singing, Fighting, Annoying Ollie, Castle Remodeling, Reading Comics, and Laughing at YouTube Comments (seriously, do yourself a favor and stay away from the comment section) Weapon of Choice: She isn't picky when it

You have to see the sex act comically, as a child.” W. H. Auden

If I were an actual spider-centaur, I’d go to Comic-Con as the Stalk from Saga and get my picture taken with every famous person I could find.

God knows the outcome of the play. But I still have to write the lines and live with their consequences on his stage.